Like Someone in Love
by Ghostsballad
Summary: The desire for it nearly consumed her life. Up to the point where she couldn't live without it. So life decided to be generous and give her exactly what she asked for. Unfortunately, there is a slight misunderstanding…


Hello everyone! Just wanted to say that this _is_ my first fan fiction so please be kind and open-minded. This does get somewhat disturbing so I'm just going to warn you just in case you are not into that kind of stuff! Read the whole thing before telling me that someone's name is wrong. Reviews are deeply appreciated :)

 _Disclaimer_ : I do not own _The Phantom of the Opera_ or any of the characters in it. It all rightfully belongs to Gaston Leroux.

 _ **Warmth**_

Katia was a pretty normal person, for the most of it.

She had just finished high school and was going into her first year of college in the process of becoming an English teacher. That hadn't been her first choice, singer and actor were much higher up on the list, but she didn't mind reading all that much and thought she'd give it a try.

She had long, dark brown hair and got it permed every once in a while. She simply said she liked to keep it curly. She also wore blue contacts even though her eyes were obviously a dark, brown. She would have gotten a nose job if she could, but she didn't have enough money. She was trying to make a career as a singer on the side while beginning her college years. So far, there was not much luck.

Every Wednesday and Sunday, she would meet with her old teacher, Mrs. Flores, at Starbucks or at her house and they'd talk for a while. Sometimes she'd ask for advice, other times they just talked about books. It was like a very intimate book club with only two people.

She sat at the table tapping her fingers against the wood. She should be there any second…

"Katia! So sorry I'm late." Mrs. Flores hustled over to her. Over the years, Katia had earned the privilege of calling Mrs. Flores by her first name, Laura.

She stood up and hugged the woman who smelt of a freshly opened candle. "Hey! It's only been, like, ten minutes. It's cool." An autumn-leaf scented candle.

Laura scooted into her chair and set down her purse. "Tell me," she began," Do you like Red Robin for their food or their fast service?" Katia knew that was a joke. They always took fifteen minutes to get their drink orders, thirty minutes to actually bring them the drinks, and then another half-hour for them to bring out their food. By Laura's out of breath state, she guessed she had to go through a lot of people to find their table.

"Oh stop." She waved her hand. "They're just always busy. And you know you love their buffalo wings. If you didn't, we could be at Phoenician Garden right now."

"They're slow too! It's like they know it's our favorite places so they're like "You know what'd be funny? To make those two women wait thirty years."'

She rolled her eyes. "Yep. That's exactly what they say." They were only nine years apart- Katia 19 and Laura 28. Laura was so much more relaxed than a normal English teacher. At their school, it was wrong to pick favorites, but now, it was a little late for that. She played with her straw in her drink; she had ordered them both water's before Laura had got there.

"Now. Onto the important part." Laura dug into her purse.

That meant it was time for the book talk. "Okay. I'm ready."

She pulled out a book and showed it to Katia. _The Giving_ Tree by Shel Silvestein.

"Hey… I know that book! I read it in, like, 2nd grade." She took a sip of her water. "What's so important about it?"

"I just had a revelation" she grinned. "So, I was on Reddit last night…"

"Uh no. That can't be good."

"Let me finish." She said calmly. "And there was this post about the book, talking about an alternative title. Instead of The Giving Tree, they said it should have been called The Taking Boy."

"Huh." She thought for a second. She remembered the book.

It involved a little boy who grew up with this tree. When he was little he would swing from the branches and be its best friend. But, as the boy got older, he stopped going to it as often. He'd take its apples and leaves, and the tree gladly allowed because it loved the boy. Though, the boy just kept taking and taking until it never visited the tree, which was now a stump due to his actions, anymore. One day, when he's a very old man, he tells the tree he wants one more thing; a place to sit. So the stump of the tree offers itself. And that's how the book ended.

"Yeah. I can see that. The boy was greedy."

"But would you say he loved the tree? It was a requited love and they both took from each other, didn't they? The boy took all the tree had and the tree took up his time."

"I'm not too sure, Laura." She looked over as their complementary fries were brought to them.

"Sorry about the wait! Should be out in a moment!" the waitress promised with a huge grin then left.

Laura took a bite of a fry and muttered "Or maybe it's Red Robin taking up all of _our_ time."

They just had a bond Katia couldn't explain.

She had one other friend, Megan. She had befriended Megan the first day of sophomore year. Something had just clicked. After a few weeks of friendship, Katia found she was very fond of calling Megan, _Meg,_ whom was fine with it. Meg wasn't the brightest girl but she was nice made Katia laugh. Well, _breathe out a heavy breath out of her nose while curling her lips_ kind of laugh.

One evening, she had been out shopping with Meg all day. They bought a bunch of makeup and clothes, getting themselves ready for college. They stopped to rest on a nearby bench when Katia spoke. "Can I ask you something?"

Meg lower an eyebrow. "Of course. What's up?"

"Well…"

She shuffled around on her butt. "Ooh! I'm ready, girl!"

Katia rubbed her arm. "Have you ever… like…Oh God, this is embarrassing." She held her head in her hand. "I just… Oh, never mind. It's stupid."

"No." she frowned. "It's not. Please. Tell me."

She shook her head. "It's dumb. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Katia," she rested her hand on Katia's. "If you brought it up, then it's not dumb. You are very particular about certain things you speak about."

Her nose scrunched up. "What do you mean?"

Meg shrugged. "You just are. Now back on you, what were you going to say?"

"You… won't judge me?"

"Of course not!"

"And… you won't… you won't _tell_ people, will you?"

"Not if you don't want me to." She squeezed her hand. "Tell me. You can trust me." Her eyes were serious now.

She sighed. "I have been wanting something to happen for a very long time. A _really_ long time.… and every night… I always pray. I go to church every Sunday. I've been a good Christian. I…" she felt helpless. "I don't know why it's not happening. I've done everything I can and it just… doesn't happen."

"I'm sorry." She sympathized. "Is it practical?"

"What?"

"Like, could it actually happen? Is it realistic? Or are you asking for aliens to invade the Earth?"

"No. Yes. I don't know… it's just… it c _ould_ happen. It could. I just need to…"

"What is it?"

She froze. "What?"

"What do you keep asking for?" Katia was quiet. Meg continued. "I mean, maybe I could help. I don't know. I'm just trying to be supportive."

"I have to go." Katia cut in. This was all a mistake. Of course Meg would ask.

"What?" now Meg looked shocked. "No, Katia, don't go. I'm just trying to-"

"I have to be somewhere. I'm sorry. See you soon."

"Hey! Wait-"

And she was gone.

She scurried to her car, glad they had driven separately, but then remembered she had left her bags with Meg. It didn't matter.

She pushed her keys into the slot with a great force. She had been stupid to open up to Meg like that. She should have known that if she was going to say that much then she was probably going to have to tell Meg what it was. She turned on the radio and blasted some music to clear her head. She felt a little shaky. Perhaps she had one too many doughnuts today. Perhaps it was the short distance sprint she had broken into. Perhaps it was the fact she had almost told Meg _everything._

She hadn't lied though. She did have to be somewhere. But now she was about an hour early. It didn't matter.

She walked up the steps of Laura's house and knocked the door, then slowly opened it. Laura always was bad about locking her doors. "Hello? Laura?"

"Katia! You're early! In the kitchen." Katia closed and _locked_ the door, then ran up to where the kitchen was.

Laura had and apron and oven mitts on. Her hair was pinned back. "What a lovely surprise. You must excuse me, I thought you weren't coming over until 5 so the food isn't cooked yet."

"That's fine. It's fine." Still shaky.

"You alright, dear?"

"Oh yeah, just… so hungry." She nervously laughed. "I haven't eaten much today and I can't wait for your mashed potatoes."

"Haha, well…" she turned around and opened the oven. "The chicken should be ready in about an hour. I just peeled the potatoes and now there are getting nice and warm."

"That's fine. Maybe we can… have a little book chat? How about that?" Anything to get her mind on something.

"Why not!" she smiled and checked the oven one last time before slipping off her gloves. She disappeared in her back room but soon came out, holding a book closely to her chest.

"You go first." She weakly smiled. She hadn't brought a book.

" _Romeo and Juliet_." She spoke proudly.

"Oh! I read this my- oh yeah. You were my teacher. Heh."

Laura blushed. "There's a reason I taught 9th grade English. I just" she squeezed the book," love this gosh darn book so much."

"Really? You know, I never really was that fond of it."

" _What?"_ she sounded disgusted. "How could you say that? It's a total classic. And it's by the genius William Shakespeare himself. It's his best work _… for never was there a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo_."

She sighed. "But there totally was."

"Name one." There was a serious tone in her voice that was almost scary. She wanted to laugh and flinch at the same time.

"Titanic! Sure, _Romeo and Juliet_ is sad, but who actually cried? I'm sure everyone cried twice at Titanic."

"It doesn't strike you as sad? Two young lovers lay dead. That doesn't get to you?"

"I just don't think it's a tragedy."

"Oh, do tell."

She shrugged. She had usually kept these thoughts to herself. "Romeo and Juliet are just two rich kids who get whatever they want and then they _think_ they are in love. The one thing they can't have. It's quite cliché."

"But that's what kind of story this is! It's like calling _Twilight_ too cheesy. Of course it is. That's the whole premise of the story. It's the type of audience it appeals to."

"Guess I'm not that audience."

"Then why has is survived for so long? Why is it still taught in school today?"

Katia felt her face go red. "I don't know… Maybe because people like remembering how it felt to be young and in love."

There was a beeping noise. Laura was quiet for a few seconds. "Probably not the main reason but… truer words have not been spoken." The beeping sound didn't stop. "Okay, okay, but you don't need to bash my favorite book, k? My broccoli is done!" she cheered and went to get it, snapping them out of their deep conversation.

Katia was left alone with her thoughts. She thought about her own tragic love life. The men seemed to steer away from her, but to admit it, she kind of did it to herself. If a guy ever came up to her and tried talking with her, she'd pretend she had to go somewhere. She steered away from them as well, but not as the same reason. Sure, she was a hopeless romantic, but she had the most fun imagining what it would be like. She had never had a boyfriend, except in 11th grade. His name was Ronnie and they were only together for a month. She still never had her first kiss. The worst they had done was hold hands.

She was simply waiting for when she felt a spark.

She wanted to meet a guy that would make her eyes glaze over when his met hers.

A guy who would hold up her hand and kiss the palm of it. A guy whose voice was soft and warm, enveloping her in a cocoon of heavenliness. A voice that was a strong tenor who could speak with just the right amount of softness. A guy who was extremely smart, street-smart and book-smart. A guy who could defend the both of them. A guy who had strong muscles but was modest about them the way a gentlemen would be. A man who had done some wrongs in his life but was ready to redeem himself.

A guy who understood the true beauty of art and music, in and out of every shape or form.

A guy who could teach her how to find her voice.

A guy who lived deep underneath an opera house.

A guy who had a slight distortion on the right side of his face but it was covered by a stark, white mask.

She wanted the _Phantom of the Opera._

The desire for him nearly consumed her. She didn't go by a day when she didn't think of him, no pun intended.

She had first watched the 2004 movie in her 7th grade year. She had fallen in love the moment she heard "Brava, brava, bravissima." His voice was as if the angels themselves had come down. As the movie progressed, the fell in love with the holder of the voice. The Angel. The ghost. The phantom. Music of the night became her ringtone, his alarm clock. She sang it all the time and imagined him holding her, stroking her cheek, murmuring the holy words to her.

It was the same routine every morning. She woke up at 8:00, her alarm clock Music of the Night, the part where the phantom said " _Let your soul take you where you long to be!"_ She'd wake up from her dreamless sleep, only wishing to dream about the melodies they could create together. She'd sit up and grab her laptop, looking up some scenes from _Phantom_ to start her day. _Point of No Return_ and _Why So Silent?_ were very good starters. Nothing was better than watching the love of her life at his most romantic, sexual moments. His handsome physique. His soft lips… his hot smirk… his piercing blue eyes… And she would lose herself.

"Katia!" Laura's voice yelped and she jumped, lost in thought.

"What? What?"

"I said my chicken is ready! You've been staring off into space for God knows how long." And they enjoyed the rest of the meal in peace.

But God didn't know.

Every night she prayed to God to send her an angel of music to guide her. She went to church every Sunday. She didn't flirt with boys. Unlike Christine, she had no Vicomte to be worrying about. She would always sing in places where she pretended she thought she was alone but she knew there was a very small possibility that someone was there, listening to her.

There never was.

So she waited. She waited and waited for a man wearing a half-mask to hear her sing and find her voice to be so incredibly raw and beautiful that he would fall in love with her. He would teach her and they would fall in love. She would take off his mask and kiss his cheeks, telling him she adored him no matter what.

She would go to cafés or restaurants just to see if any man dressed in all black was sitting all by himself. She often looked out at her windows at night, waiting for a white half-mask to appear. She would stay out late at parks, waiting for someone. But not anyone. Only him. Only ever him. She wished she would look just like Christine. Then maybe he would come. But her nose was too big… and her forehead was too big. Oh, stupid Christine for leaving such a loving man! Such a devoted and loving man. He did nothing but loved her. Sure he killed like twice but he did it _for_ her.

After years and years of waiting, praying, crying, and begging, Katia decided she was sick and tired of waiting for _him_ to arrive. She looked outside her bedroom window for hours at a time waiting for him to save her from this lonely hell. She had two friends, but Meg was only her friend so she could have been more like Christine, and Laura reminded her of Madame Giry. She didn't actually care about them. She wanted to run away with him. Run far away. She'd forget them. She'd do anything for him. She sang all the opera songs she knew, and let herself roam around by herself at time waiting for him to arrive just like she wanted him to.

But he never did.

Before she lied down to cry herself to sleep, like she always did, she got down on her knees and prayed. Every night she would hold her hands together and pray out loud, pleading for God to send her an angel of music. Her phantom. This time, she held out a pill jar.

"Dear God…I know you hear from me all the time. But… please. I'm begging now. If… if you d-don't send me him," she sobbed," I'll kill myself in the morning. You heard me? I'll kill myself." Her hands were shaky but she knew she couldn't live without him. He was her sunlight. Her air. Her world. She'd die without him, which was what she planned to do. "Please send me the Angel of Music. The Phantom." Her voice broke. "Please."

She opened the pill jar and took out exactly how many it would take to kill herself then set it next to a glass of water on her bedside table. She cried herself to sleep with low hopes and no expectations.

And awoke with a sudden panic.

Confusion was more like it. Her room was much too dark. Even at night, the moonlight would usually shine in and give her enough light for her eyes to adjust in. But now, she couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or not. She began to panic.

 _I'm blind_ was her first thought of terror that ran through her head. It was so incredibly dark that she felt herself begin to slightly suffocate a bit. While squeezing her eyes closed, she reached for her bedside table and reached for her lamp, quickly turning it on. When she opened her eyes she felt two emotions: relief and terror.

Relief because she w _asn't_ blind. Her vision was perfect.

Terror because that wasn't her lamp. And that wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room.

She sat up quickly, feeling her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She looked for anything that seemed familiar but couldn't find anything. It was a different lamp on a different table. The pills were gone. It wasn't her bed she was lying in. Her usual light pink sheets were now a hard grey. Her usual one pillow with a rose on it were now just a bunch of grey pillows.

As she sat up for, she felt suddenly nauseas. Her stomach and chest hurt and her body felt numb. Her arms felt so heavy and it was kind of hard to move them. Pins and needles ran up and down her whole body, shivers and tremors tracking her spine. She was shaking uncontrollably and didn't know what to do. Tears slipped out of her eyes and she debated whether to get out of the bed or not.

Staying in the bed meant they were going to have to come in. It also made her more vulnerable to if they were going to… _force_ her.

Getting out meant she was going to have to build up enough strength to open the door and confront them.

Either way, she was going to have to get up one way or another. She had to use the bathroom and she was starving. Her head was pounding and her throat was sore from crying. With shaking limbs, she pulled down the unfamiliar sheets of the bed and slid out. She felt that just one step would set off an alarm. One foot. Okay. Second foot. She stood up and used the bedside table as help, her body felt like jelly. Every step she took was uncomfortable. She made her way to the first door that was a crack open. With trembling hands, she pushed open the door. It was a bathroom.

She ran inside and closed the door. It had no lock but it was enough. She used the toilet and washed her hands. There was no mirror but when she opened up one of the drawers, the found a small hand-held one. She looked so tired and crazy. Her hair was tangled and her eyes were puffy, but that was the least of her problems. She cracked open the door and peeked into the room, seeing if anyone had come in. Nothing seemed out of place so she slid out. She stood in front of the _other_ door. It was mocking her.

She stood there in front of it for several minutes, possibly even an hour, there was no clock in the room, debating to open it or not. With millions of thoughts racing through her head, she shakily opened turned the doorknob and opened the door ever so slowly.

Tears pouring down her face, she opened it all the way looked out. It was a living room. It was quite dark as well but there was a few candles throughout the room lighting up the just enough. She took another step out and looked for anything. _Anyone_. There were no weapons to her knowledge but she saw a statue of an angel. It was about the size of the lamp. She would make a note to use that in case she needed defense. _Where was her angel now?_

She didn't see anyone for several minutes. Until… _there._ She saw something in the shadows. Or rather it was the shadow itself. The shadow seemed to be moving closer to her and she took a small step back, almost frozen with fear. The shadow formed into the silhouette of a… man? The body was too tall and thin to be a grown man… but it was. The shadow moved closer and closer until it was only a few feet away from her. There was only silence and she wondered if she had just imagined it.

"You have awaken, my love." Came a voice, making her jump. It seemed to come from everywhere. She turned around to see if anyone was behind her but only saw the sad room she had been in. The voice continued," I apologize for the late arrival. I had planned to come to you eventually but I couldn't have let you end your life, now could I?"

"What?" She gasped and it came out as a throaty whisper. Her voice was broken.

"You must be hungry. Let me prepare you a meal." The voice surrounded her wrapped her in a cocoon. It was hauntingly beautiful. It seemed the go through every atom that floated in the air around her. The soothing and silky voice seemed to be coming from the dark shadow.

"I…" she cleared her throat and forced herself not to break down. "What… am I doing here? Who are you? Where am I?"

"Yes. Yes. You have always been quite the questionnaire, haven't you? All in good time, my dear. You must eat."

"No. No, I don't want to eat." She shuddered and sucked in a breath. "Please tell me where I am."

"You are in my home. No need to worry, we are far from any sort of civilization."

"Who are you?"

The shadow sighed. Surely shadows can't sigh, can they? Well it had already spoke. She was sure it could breathe as well. "Would you prefer pancakes or eggs, my dear?"

"Who are you?" she repeated, growing nervous he was avoiding her questions for a reason.

The shadow was suddenly right in front of her. She gasped. It was a man… covered from head to toe in black. He wore a full-faced black mask and she could only see yellow eyes peeking out from it. He stood a good foot or two taller than her. She was only 5'4, he must have been at least 6 foot something. He spoke again. "I am Erik."

Erik… the name was familiar. She remembered reading it from somewhere. Then it hit her: it was the phantom's name. Though it was never spoken in the movie, it was what they called him in the Fanfiction's she would read. She looked up at him with a gasp.

"…Erik?"

"Yes."

"Oh… _oh_." She moaned. There had been a terrible mistake.

"Both then. Come. You are hungry. You must eat."

"No… I'm not. We need to talk."

"As I said, I will answer all of your questions but you must eat before you feel ill."

She already felt ill but she followed him into the kitchen. "Sit." He commanded and she did. The table only had one chair. He wasn't going to join her. After a few moments of awkwardly sitting there, she felt more tears come forth. She had been able to still them but now since he was ignoring her she felt alone and lost. A few more minutes passed and turned around with a glass of orange juice. "No pulp. Just how you like it."

She stilled. _How did he know what she liked?_ It washed over her. He had probably been stalking her and watching her for a long time. He even heard her declare her future suicide. Of course he would know what type of juice she liked.

After he made her some waffles with eggs and bacon, he handed her the plate. She picked up the fork and took a shaky bite of some of the waffles. She felt like she was going to throw up. After a few bits she set down her fork and scooted her chair back. "Erik?"

He perked up at her saying his name. "Yes, my love?"

"What… what am I doing here?"

"Whatever do you mean?" She grew angry but he looked sincerely confused.

"I woke up in a stranger's bedroom only to find that… that I've been _kidnapped_! You don't tell me anything, you wear nothing but black and wear a … _mask_ over your face. You did nothing but make me food. I have questions!" she cried, more tears slipping out her eyes.

"My love," he kneeled down at her feet," You already well know the answers to the questions you ask."

"No! I don't!" she bawled.

"You asked for me. Every night. As I said before, I had already been planning to come to you but when you threatened suicide, I could not simply watch you kill yourself. So I came."

She shook her head rapidly. "No… no." she gulped. "This is not what I asked for." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Is it not?" he seemed amused.

"I a-asked f-for the angel…" she sobbed.

"You asked, and you received."

"But you are not-"

"Perhaps a song then?" he inquired. He left her feet and went to sit at the piano she just noticed. He opened it up and began to play, causing her heart to pound with such anxiety. He… was _perfect_.

His fingers slid gracelessly from key to key. It almost seemed as if he was just petting it. They moved fast and slick, like an assassin. Then… he began to sing.

His voice was from the heavens itself. It had to be; deep and intriguing. She felt it all around her. In her ears. In her hair. In her pores. She was the voice. And she could never be without it again.

When he finished, she noticed the tears trailing down her cheeks, from the song and from the realization. There had been a terrible mistake. "Was the song to your liking?"

"Oh… yes. Yes, it was beautiful but…but…"

"Yes?" he sat up and folded his hands.

"You cannot be the angel." She whispered, she barely heard it herself.

"Why not?"

"You… you are a man."

"Come, Katia," the way he spoke her name caused her to shiver. "We both know you didn't just ask for a disembodied voice."

"Your right… but… I didn't ask for _you_ either."

"Elaborate on that, my dear. You have me quite confused."

"I didn't ask for you." she whispered. "I wanted… the phantom. With… the half-mask."

"Ah, I see. You thought you would get the pretty boy they displayed on the stage and films. I am the real deal, my doll."

"I… don't think I understand." His tone was scaring her.

"Let _me_ elaborate." And with that her untied the strings of his mask and let it clatter to the floor.

She would have been surprised it hadn't broke, if she had paid attention to it. All she could focus on now was the face.

The face…

She gasped out a half-scream half-cry and held her hand to her mouth. Her heart pounded and pounded. She had stayed away from the books and the original movies. She didn't like how disfigured the phantom was displayed. It took away from the romance of the whole plot. But now… here it was. In all its glory, raw and nothing emphasizing it. If she had read the book, maybe she would have been prepared.

But she doubted anything could have prepared her for this.

His skin was blistered and cut up, shriveled down to the skull. You could see his veins and bones. His cheekbones protruded out like sharp knives and his puckered mouth was fixed into a horrifying smirk. He had _no_ nose. Nothing. Just a black hole.

She should have paid more attention to Joseph Buquet.

She took a step back and sobbed hard, turning from him, unable to look at death's head any longer. It was disgusting.

"What? Is it not to your liking? I'd say it was quite the proof I am in, indeed, the phantom."

"No. No. S- stop." she shrieked. "You are _not_ him!" He stood up and walked towards her. She peered up at him and saw his mask hadn't been replaced. "Stay back! Get away from me!"

"Look at me."

"No!"

" _Look at me."_

She turned her head towards him but kept her eyes squeezed shut. What would she give to be actually blind right now.

" _Open your eyes or I'll open them myself_." He spoke in a low growl. She obeyed and looked at anywhere but his face. He grabbed her chin and made her look at his repulsive face again. "I am the phantom. I reside under an opera house. I sing like God himself. I have a disfigurement. I am all that you have asked for. Why are you not pleased?"

"You are not what I wished for!" she spit and shook. His arms grabbed her upper arms to still her. "I wanted the other phantom!"

"What other phantom? I can assure you I am the only one."

"The one in the movie! With the white mask!"

"I can wear a white mask if you prefer. Color is of no concern."

"No! You… You are hideous! The- the other phantom was not! He h-had a distortion but only on _one_ side of his face. He was handsome! He was handsome! Not like you! You are not what I asked for!"

"We can create all the melodies you could ever dream of. You will learn to sing and you will rise as the star you were meant to be."

He wasn't listening to her! "Not with you! Never with you! I don't want you!"

" _You_ asked for me. You were going to kill yourself. I am here. And you will live. You will stay. And you will be mine."

"No!"

"I love you."

"No!" she sobbed, her voice howling and breaking. "Let me go! I want to go home!"

"You are home."

"What are you not understanding?" she cried. "I didn't ask for you! Let me go home! Let me go!"

" _You_ are not understanding, _my dear."_ He snarled. It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying when death's head was right next to hers, breathing on her forehead. "I am the phantom. You asked for the phantom. You asked for me."

"I didn't ask for you to kidnap me!"

"Ah. So you did ask for me."

The hundreds of tears fell down her face. Her nose was running and it was getting harder to breath. "No. I didn't. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please let me go. Please."

"You are mine now. You will stay. Look at my face!"

"I can't! I can't look at it! Please! It is so awful!"

"Look at my face, Katia."

She looked at him again and her face twisted into agony as his hands grew in strength. He was squeezing her arms numb. "L-let me go."

He then loosened his grip on her arms, slid his hands down to hers, she shivered, and he placed them on his face. She shrieked and tried to hit and kick him but nothing worked. He grabbed her fingers and dug her nails into his thin skin, drawing blood almost immediately. She screamed again but he just kept digging her fingers into his skin. She could feel his skin and blood getting stuck in her nails and she wanted to retch.

"Look at me!" he roared, blood covering his features. She looked at the bloody mess and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry! Let me go! Please!" she just yelled incoherent words that garbled into a mess of screams. She couldn't even hear what she was saying anymore. She felt dizzy and felt her body go limp. She relaxed all her muscles and he didn't catch her as she fell to the floor. She just lied there and sobbed.

He leaned over to her and began to sing a lullaby. "Katia. Shh. You will never see the death's head again. You are here and you will stay." His angelic voice over the demon face was too much.

"S-stop. Please stop." He didn't stop and relentlessly sung her melodies. When she could no longer take it, she rammed her hands over her ears and screamed. That made him more vulnerable and so she jumped up and ran back into the room, grabbing the statue she had earlier looked at. She could hear his footsteps coming towards her. Without much thought, she slammed the door shut but slipped on the rug.

She dropped the statue on the floor and it shattered in many sharp jades. At the same time, she fell and landed on the biggest piece. The shard cut into her throat and slid into her neck effortlessly.

All was quiet.

 _He_ stepped on the broken marble and glass, cracking noises filling the room. He looked down at her and wordlessly lifted her up.

He didn't need to check. He knew she was dead.

He carried her over to one of the rooms he had hidden in the walls. After the right hand movements, he pushed the door open and brought her lifeless body inside. He laid her in a bed labeled #47. Next to her was #46, then #45 and so on and so on. The room had smelled of death but he used enough perfume and candles that it smelt like roses. He looked over at #42. She had been his favorite. She had the audacity to pick up the mask and try to get him to put it back on. It had only been a week ago but her face was already met with death. He looked at Katia. Her once rosy cheeks and wide eyes were now pale and still. She the most odd; dying the most peculiar way. Usually they would slit their wrists with the knives or they'd overdose on his medicine.

Girls after girls, dreaming and pleading for the mysterious and attractive Phantom to come and get them. Escape from the world together. But they never wanted him. They wanted the hot, musical phantom who had a blister in the right side of his face. And he came, hoping he would be enough. But he never was.

He sighed and left the room, sparing Katia another glance. It was too depressing to stay in there for too long.

After heading towards the kitchen, he picked up the breakfast she didn't eat and threw it away.

In the end, it was the angel she had wanted. It was the angel she had prayed for. It was the angel that had saved her.

He looked at the broken shards of the angel statue in the other room.

In the end, it was the angel that killed her.


End file.
